


Accidental Pet Acquisition

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fanfiction, First Time, M/M, Mild Kink, Vacation, Worldbuilding, accidental pet acquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: On vacation in an idyllic Pegasus city, John and Rodney finally get together, and Rodney runs foul of officialdom and finds a new friend.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67
Collections: Romancing McShep 2021





	Accidental Pet Acquisition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/gifts).



> Written for a five-part prompt from kisahawklin (kate): vacation, accidental animal acquisition, disgruntled employee(s), notable architecture, and a blue blue sky.
> 
> Also for the 2021 Romancing McShep festival.

* * *

They stepped through the P6G-998 Gate onto a thick stone slab, finding themselves facing an intricately carved rock wall covered with writing in an unfamiliar, blocky script and snarling stone animals, some with a feline look to them, some wolflike, and others that might have been snakes, or lizards. It reminded John of a Mayan temple.

He looked up. The rock face was engraved with carvings as far as he could see, and above it was a blue, blue bowl of sky. “Huh, impressive,” he said.

“Oh my god!” Rodney yelped, grabbing him and pulling him closer to the carvings.

“What?” John tensed and spun, a hand on his P-90. Teyla and Ronon were stepping down from the Gate steps, frowning at Rodney, who had his back pressed hard against the rock. He was trembling.

The rectangular slab supporting the Gate was cantilevered out from the cliff, jutting out just far enough to accommodate the Gate platform and allow human travelers to access it. He could see why Teyla had insisted they leave the puddlejumper at home. John glanced over the side, which was edged only by a waist-high rock wall. The valley was a very long way down. In the sky below them birds wheeled in slow spirals, catching thermals.

“Hey, buddy,” John said, squeezing Rodney’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s safe. They’ve probably been using it for hundreds of years.”

“Yes, precisely, and with no maintenance or stress-testing in all that time,” Rodney snapped. “I just... I’m not good with heights, okay?” His chin tilted up defensively.

The others had joined them. John gestured at the valley. “Ah, I’m hoping we don’t have to walk down some staircase with a zillion steps?” He’d joined the chairforce not the damn army and after all these land-based missions he was beginning to see why O’Neill bitched about his knees.

“No indeed, Colonel,” Teyla said. “The city is above us. It is no more than six flights.”

“Peachy,” John said, relieved.

Teyla took Rodney’s arm and led them along to an archway in the wall. “What’s that all about?” John asked, waving a hand at the carved letters and toothy snarls they were passing.

“It is the great work of the Ixtacca’s forebears,” Teyla said. “Made to ward off evil.”

“It says 'Fuck off Wraith',” Ronon added. Teyla pursed her lips but didn’t disagree.

“Did it work?” Rodney sounded better now they were off the sky platform and inside a stone staircase, lit by holes to the outside which had been cut into the carvings. They trudged upward, Teyla leading, then Rodney, with John close behind to make sure he didn’t fall and not at all ogle Rodney’s ass. Ronon had their six.

“Putting it close to the wall so darts get creamed is what worked,” Ronon grunted. “Doesn’t stop Hives, but it cuts down on scout reports.”

“Indeed,” Teyla said, then they saved their breath for the climb.

They were on a two-day vacation, arranged by John and Teyla—ostensibly for her birthday, but actually as Rodney had been looking exhausted after bedding in a new contingent of scientists. One of them, Dr. Anselm, had already managed to explode the annexe to Lab 3 and Rodney's voice was strained from yelling. It wasn't enough time for a real break but it was all they'd been able to manage between essential trade missions and SGC dial-ups.

When they emerged, blinking, into the light, the city before them was also made from stone. Beautifully shaped blocks fitted together seamlessly, rising up several stories with greenery spilling down from jutting balconies and tall windows. There were friezes with more carvings, mostly of flowers and vines rather than predators. John wondered if the hanging gardens of Babylon had looked like this.

"This is the old part of the city," Teyla said, gesturing at the buildings. "It is a notable attraction and one I have not visited since I was a girl." She smiled happily. "I have looked forward to seeing it again."

"Durable," Ronon said approvingly. "Wraith haven't been able to smash it up."

"How often have they _tried_?" Rodney asked nervously.

"Not for many generations," Teyla reassured him. "There is some sort of shield that hinders Hive ships from monitoring the city and its environs."

"Really?" Rodney bent to his hand-held scanner. "Huh, maybe it's..." he trailed off, clicking busily and muttering to himself.

There was a kind of customs post with refreshingly little bureaucracy, just a ledger to record their names, origins, and how long they planned to stay. Then Teyla led them through the streets and alongside a canal filled with barges and small boats. From the embankment they could look down into wooden boats moored there, filled with flowers and other goods, the owners waving and shouting in a sing-song cadence to advertise their wares. It reminded John of Dal lake in Srinagar, that time he'd had leave from his unit in Kabul.

"Ah, Teyla said. "A shrubshee merchant. You will like this, Rodney." She led the way down some narrow stone steps to a platform where a boat filled with stacked wooden boxes painted in bright pastels was moored. John left her bargaining and eyed the other boat tied up there, one of the flower sellers.

"Fine flowers, beautiful scented garlands!" the shopkeeper cried enticingly, thrusting a bunch of pink lilies at him, then a spray of tiny yellow flowers. John waved them away and pointed at some striking blue and purple blooms that were something like sunflowers, but with a double ring of petals in the contrasting colors. He got a few coins out of his pocket—he had no idea what the local currency was, but the team always carried Manarian silver pieces, as most worlds accepted those.

He spread them on his palm and the flower-seller took two coins, beaming up at him, a gold tooth flashing. John was pretty sure he was paying at least double the usual rate, but it was still ridiculously cheap, and it _was_ Teyla's birthday. He accepted an armful of flowers wrapped in waxed paper, and rejoined the others.

Teyla had bought a couple of boxes, one pink and the other green. She had the lid off one and was offering it to Rodney.

"You're quite sure there's no citrus in these?" Rodney asked anxiously, peering at the contents. It looked like squares of confectionary, dusted with powdered sugar.

"They are safe, Rodney," Teyla reassured him. "Citrus trees grow on very few worlds in Pegasus, and this is not one of them."

"Yes, they _say_ that, and then it's all numbness and wheezing and EpiPens," Rodney muttered fretfully, his hand hovering over the sweets.

"I'll check it," John said, taking a piece.

"Yeah, me, too," Ronon said eagerly. "Shrubshee's my favorite."

Rodney pulled back the box, but not before Ronon had snagged a couple of cubes. "Watch it! I know you two—you'll have eaten the whole box before I get a taste!"

The sugar-covered cube melted on John's tongue. It was like caramel, with notes of spice and honey and a bare hint of salt. His mouth watered and he closed his eyes involuntarily.

"Christ," Rodney said, and John opened his eyes to see Rodney staring at him. "It's _that_ good?"

"Ah, yeah, pretty good," John said, flushing. "And no citrus," he added.

Rodney grabbed a chunk and shoved it into his mouth. He shut his eyes, savoring it. "Goob," he moaned stickily with his eyes shut, smiling beatifically. John grinned at him.

“Uh, these are for you,” he said, handing the flowers to Teyla. Ronon tried to relieve her of the other box of shrubshee so she could take them, but Rodney snatched it, glaring at him and hugging both boxes to his chest.

“Thank you, John,” Teyla said, smiling. “They are naxlit daisies, and very lovely.”

Beside her, Rodney sneezed, then sneezed again. “Well, _I’m_ not going to be sharing a room with the pollen factories tonight, that’s for sure,” he said. 

“We’ll sort something out,” John told him. Even on vacation the policy was to pair up, just in case of trouble. He usually shared a tent or a room with Rodney while Teyla and Ronon bunked together. “Is there a hotel or something?” he asked her.

“A comfortable inn,” she said, “and they have an excellent menu.”

Rodney cradled the shrubshee boxes in one arm and waved her to the steps. “Well then, lets go,” he said. “This pack’s heavy.”

The packs weren’t all that heavy, but while Ronon and Teyla were already in their usual leather and laces, he and Rodney had brought Pegasus clothes with them so as to blend in and not seem too threatening or tourist-like. They’d found that while the uniforms were necessary on formal diplomatic or trade missions, they attracted too much attention if all you wanted was to relax and not get into unnecessary fights. Not that that had ever stopped Ronon.

They changed, then dined on a terrace made from the ubiquitous carved stone, and it was delicious, just as Teyla had promised. Rodney made appreciative noises over the dumplings, and ate several skewers of spiced meat. It reminded John of that first, strained celebration after he and Ford had returned from rescuing the Athosians, and from failing to rescue Toran and Sumner. He pushed the memory away.

Teyla and Rodney had wine, but John and Ronon stuck to ale. After dinner, Rodney began yawning, his tiredness catching up with him on top of the food and drink. John stood, and tapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, buddy, time for bed before you faceplant in the cheeseboard."

"I'll do no such thing," Rodney said, rousing, then proved himself wrong with another huge yawn. "Oh all right," he muttered, capitulating. "I suppose an early night won't hurt me, for once."

He shoved to his feet, then paused, his brow furrowed. "What floor's the room on?"

"I'll show you," John said, giving Teyla and Ronon a goodnight wave as he guided Rodney to the stairs, a hand on his back.

"You know," Rodney said as John turned the old-fashioned key in the lock and pushed open their heavy wooden door, "you seem very eager to persuade me to go to bed." He peered at John suspiciously. "Trying to get me out of the way so you can have a secret dalliance with some pretty waitress?"

"We've been here all of two hours," John said, peeved. "And _what_ pretty waitress? Didn't you see who served us?" It had been the innkeeper herself, a dignified, gray-haired woman in her sixties who remembered Teyla's father.

Rodney had plonked himself down on the bed and was unlacing his boots. He broke off and waved a finger at John. "I know you. It takes no time at all for you to flutter your eyelashes and hey presto, that ol' Sheppard magic triumphs again." He listed sharply left, battling to pull off a boot.

John rolled his eyes. Rodney was tipsier than he'd realized. "Only in your fevered dreams," he retorted, moving to prop Rodney up and help get his boots off. "How in hell did you get your laces in such a mess?" They were knotted tight and John knelt to untangle them.

"This's more like my dreams," Rodney mumbled a little sadly, his hand stroking John's hair. "Huh, it's soft. I thought there'd be product."

"I told you, it does that all by itself," John said, trying not to shiver as Rodney ran a finger down the lobe of his ear. He got the boots off and looked up. "You're pretty pissed, huh, buddy?"

"Plausipple,"—another giant yawn—"deniabilery. Biller. Denib—" John cut him off by undoing his belt and pulling down his pants, leaving Rodney in a loose cotton shirt. "Hah. Knew you wanted to get my pants off," Rodney said sleepily.

"And it's bedtime for _you_ ," John said, pulling back the covers and rolling Rodney onto his side. The shirt pulled up, and John caught a glimpse of the soft curve of Rodney's ass. He swallowed, then tucked the covers in around Rodney, who was now making faint whiffling noises into the pillow.

There was, of course, only one bed; Pegasus hadn't yet discovered the twin bed phenomenon. John sighed and went to take a piss and get some water from the bathroom. Rodney was going to need it, and Tylenol, when he woke up.

He left the water cup and the pills on the bedside table, then went out onto the room's balcony, leaning on the balustrade to look out over the city. Without electricity, it was unlike any city of its size on Earth. Candles and lamps shone from windows, and braziers glowed at street corners where vendors hawked roast nuts and cheaper versions of the skewers they'd had for dinner. The air was fragrant with the smells of cooking and spice, unfamiliar scents of flowers from the terrace gardens, and something else, indefinably alien. John looked up—the sky was a blaze of stars. No light pollution, and Rodney had said they were nearer the center of the galaxy on this world than Earth was to the heart of the Milky Way.

Rodney. He'd been drunk, but the things he'd said haunted John. Did he really dream of John on his knees? John groaned and pressed the heel of his hand to his cock. The erection he'd had since that glimpse of Rodney's ass had almost subsided, but that thought had revived it. He couldn't go to sleep in this state, lying beside Rodney, feeling his warmth, smelling his familiar smell. And when had Rodney started smelling so damn good, anyway?

John looked around. There were a pair of padded wooden chairs on the balcony, so he pulled one over and lay back, undoing his belt and unlacing his fly, then pulling his shirt off. Best not to risk getting it messed up; there wasn't time for laundry on this trip. Sighing with relief, he slid a hand into his pants to free his cock then licked his hand and began stroking himself. He let his head fall back on the chair's cushions, closed his eyes and saw again that sweet curve of ass, imagining his hands cupping it, squeezing it, licking and biting and then parting those cheeks and pushing in, slick and hot and—

He groaned, sliding down in the chair to spread his legs wider, cradling his balls with his other hand as he jerked his cock. Rodney would be such a sweet fuck, noisy and bossy, with his eyes wide and dark and his face shocked with pleasure. John would fuck him until he lost his words, until there was nothing but heat and friction and—"Rodney!" he moaned, then bit his lip to keep quiet, lifting his hips and thrusting into his hand.

"What?" said a voice from the doorway to the room. "John? What are you—oh. _Oh_."

John sucked in a breath and froze, hand on his cock. Christ, he was close, another stroke and he'd be coming. There was no way Rodney hadn't seen; the chair faced the doorway. "Thought you were... asleep," he managed, his breathing labored.

"Needed a piss," Rodney said. Maybe it was too dark out here for Rodney to have seen much. Maybe John could somehow cover himself— "Then I heard you say my name." Goddamn it. Busted.

"Yeaah, look, buddy, I can—"

"Oh, don't stop on my account," Rodney said, sounding entirely sober now. He came closer, until his bare feet were planted between John's legs and John could see the erection tenting his shirt.

"Rodney?" Even to John's ears he sounded breathless and plaintive, "I don't—"

"Yes, you do," Rodney said, his voice low and intimate. "Why d'you think I went commando tonight?" He gestured at John's dick. "Touch yourself. I want to see you come."

"Oh god," John gasped, almost shocked into coming by Rodney's command, by the knowledge Rodney _wanted_ this, that he'd _set it up_. With his eyes fixed on Rodney's he began stroking himself again. The interruption had backed him off from the edge a little, but Rodney watching him touch himself because he'd been _told_ to... Yeah, that was really doing it for John, and he couldn't help but make a show of it, licking his hand again then pushing up into the stroke, arching his back and writhing in the chair. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and he couldn't have stopped now, not for anything. He wanted to give it up for Rodney, to let him see, to do what Rodney wanted—

"Come for me, John," Rodney said, and pleasure flooded the base of his spine, liquefying his limbs and making him twitch and shake as he came hard, his eyes still on Rodney. He heard the helpless noises he was making, felt come splatter right up to his chest and then Rodney had thrown off his shirt and was straddling him, swiping a hand down John's stomach and jacking himself furiously. John's softening cock was pressed under that glorious ass as Rodney grunted and shuddered, adding to the mess on John's belly.

They both sat there, panting, Rodney with his head down, arms braced on the chair. "Well," John said, finally. "Good thing I took my shirt off."

Rodney snorted and raised his head. "Yeah, laundry must be a bitch here. They should be happy we didn't mess up the sheets."

"Oh, we're gonna mess up the sheets," John promised darkly, lifting his hand to caress one of Rodney's nipples. Rodney sucked in a breath. "Just as soon as I get the use of my legs back."

"Oh, sorry," Rodney said, starting to lift up. "Am I too heavy? I must be—"

"Shh, shh, you're fine, stay," John soothed him, holding him in place with his hands on Rodney's ass. His cock was enjoying itself, trapped in warm stickiness, and John shifted pleasurably as Rodney settled back again.

"You know there's no shower in the bathroom," Rodney said. "Just water in buckets with a dipper and a place to sluice down."

"We'll manage," John said. He wasn't ready to brave the bathroom yet. It was a warm night, but Teyla had told them the inn didn't have hot water unless you ordered a bath in advance.

"Well, if we're going to have to clean ourselves up anyway," Rodney said, leaning down so the stickiness on John's chest and belly got all over him, "might as well go for broke." He brushed a kiss to John's mouth, then pressed closer, opening his mouth and cradling John's head in his hands. John arched up into the kiss, lost in the slide of tongues, aching with want until he had to break off and breathe, sucking in air as Rodney kissed his stubbled jaw and found a spot on his neck to suck that had him grinding up, panting and half-hard again.

It was some time before they slept that night and the sheets very definitely needed changing in the morning. John left some coins as a tip and apology for the maid, when they went down to breakfast.

* * *

"The Ixtaccan falls are one of the wonders of the known worlds," Teyla said, leading them off on a sightseeing tour. "The Ixtacca river flows into the city's canals, then curves west, before meeting the cliff edge and plummeting down to the valley below."

"There's going to be another terrifyingly cantilevered platform, isn't there?" Rodney said gloomily.

Teyla smiled in reassurance. "You can watch from solid ground, Rodney. The view is still spectacular."

"C'mon, buddy. At least no one's asking you to go hang-gliding off the cliff," John said cheerfully. Teyla had been smiling at him and Rodney fondly since breakfast, and Ronon kept smirking at them and snorting, but John was in too good a mood to be bothered. It wasn't like they were making him _talk_ about it.

Rodney clutched Teyla's arm anxiously. "There isn't any hang-gliding off the cliffs here, is there? Please say there isn't, because Colonel Kamikaze here would insist on doing it, and I'd have a heart attack or a stroke, and—"

"What's hang-gliding?" Ronon asked, so then John had to explain at length, swoopy hand gestures and all.

"Sounds cool," Ronon said, which set Rodney off again, and then it got harder to talk because of the noise of the falls.

The canals had merged into a broad river edged by stone, and the road led up to, yes, another cantilevered viewing platform. There was a large stone structure beside it, near the lip of the falls.

Teyla gestured them close and shouted. "This the Pumping House, where the energy of the falls is transmuted into mechanical power to grind grain and perform other tasks."

"No hydroelectric power, though," Rodney shouted back, "although, hang on, hmmm..." He tapped at his scanner, muttering inaudibly.

John, Ronon and Teyla went out onto the viewing platform, and it was pretty cool, although noisy. John got out his old digital camera and took a few snaps, even getting a local vendor selling bits of wood with pokerwork pictures of the falls to take one of all three of them. He had to buy a souvenir, of course, but that was okay. He seemed to have acquired an irascible astrophysicist somehow, so he figured his days of traveling light were over.

Rodney had wandered off and John knew he wouldn't have gone anywhere near the edge so he wasn't especially worried. Still, it was an alien world, and it might not be a mission, but bad things could still happen. He made hand signals about finding Rodney and the others nodded, then he trotted back to the road and looked about. Still no sign of him.

Turning, he heard raised voices inside the Pumping House. Crap, he should have stayed back to make sure Rodney didn't get into trouble. He ran over, finding the door ajar. Yep, definitely Rodney's dulcet tones.

Inside there was a large foyer paved with black and white tiles, with several closed doors leading off from it. Rodney was down the far end, gesturing emphatically and yelling at a man dressed in a long robe and an odd, squashed hat. The man was also red-faced and shouting. It was a bit easier to hear in here, the thunder of the falls slightly muffled by thick stone walls, but you still needed to raise your voice.

John hurried over. "Hey, hey, what’s the problem?"

"This moron," Rodney said angrily, "won't let me see the control center."

"He runs this place?" John asked, speaking up to be heard over the thrum of falling water.

"I don't know, he's a civil servant I think, not an actual engineer."

"I am Quetza Idli, Supervisor of the Pumping House," the man said stiffly.

"Look, I'm real sorry if my friend upset you," John said. "We're visitors here and he's interested in technology."

"Entry is forbidden without a permit," the man said sternly, "as I have told your... friend repeatedly." He shot Rodney a glare. "Many rely on this facility for their livelihood and we cannot risk problems from interference with the machines."

"Well, you're going to have a much bigger problem if you don't let me see the damn control center," Rodney said loudly. "Like a Hive ship-sized problem!"

"What?" John started, but it was too difficult shouting over the noise so he dragged Rodney outside, collecting Teyla and Ronon when they reached the road. He made Rodney hold off from bending their ears until the thunder of the falls had faded and they could all hear again.

"Now, what in hell are you on about?" John asked, after he'd explained about the disgruntled guy in the Pumping House to the others.

"It's ancient tech," Rodney said, looking exasperated. "I bet it's the power source for that shield Teyla mentioned, that keeps the Wraith from scanning the city. With the shield functioning, the Wraith can't detect any life signs from orbit, or not enough to make them bother with a culling. Except it's not working."

"Are you sure of this, Rodney?" Teyla looked worried.

"No of course I'm not _sure_ ," Rodney said sharply, "because that idiot wouldn't let me see the control room!"

Ronon frowned. "What'd you find?"

Rodney waved his scanner. "There's a very intermittent signal which I think maintains the shield. It has all the hallmarks of ancient tech but it's not running smoothly—half the time it's not there at all. If I'm right, and the power source is the falls, then it's not like a depleted ZPM. The power supply should be infinite, so there must be some other fault in the control consoles."

John made a face. "I don't think that guy is gonna let you check them out, though." He looked at Teyla and Ronon. "He said no one was allowed in without a permit. It got kind of heated."

"Probably a minor official," Ronon said. "A bureaucrat."

"And we are strangers," Teyla added. "He has no reason to trust us."

Rodney waved his hands. "We have to go back there!"

"No." Teyla shook her head. "We must return to the inn."

"Hey now, we can't just do nothing," John said.

Teyla gave him a long-suffering look. "We will not do nothing, John. The owner of the inn is from one of the most prominent families in Ixtacca; she is on the city council. Ronon and I were talking with her last night—a most interesting woman."

"You were... busy," Ronon said with a smirk.

John felt his ears get warm, but ignored it. "Yeah, okay, sounds like a plan."

"But—"

John grabbed Rodney's arm and pulled him along. "C'mon, buddy. Teyla's gonna get you access to those consoles, you'll see."

It took several hours to arrange the permit, from explaining the problem to the innkeeper, Calixe, to gathering the council in an emergency session. Halfway through, when Teyla had taken Rodney to address yet another higher-up, Ronon got bored with waiting and dragged John out to a wide plaza nearby where fighting kites swooped and dived in the breeze. They each bought a kite and battled it out, Ronon's ruthless tactics a close match for John's instinctive grasp of 3-D maneuvering.

A serving boy from the inn called them back. The council had agreed, and the Chief Engineer would accompany Rodney to the Pumping House. Back in the thunder of falling water, they were led through to an inner chamber and the familiar shapes of ancient consoles. Teyla and Ronon had been asked to wait in the foyer, but Rodney'd insisted on John accompanying them as his "assistant", in case anything needed to be activated.

John initialized the central console, pressing his hands wherever Rodney pointed, then leaned against the wall and watched Rodney work, hands flashing over the lighted screens, his usual muttering lost in the wall of sound from the waterfall.

"Oh, and what do we have here?" Rodney exclaimed. He was on the tiled floor now, having removed a panel from one of the consoles. He reached into the interior and fished out... a cat, or something very like it.

The Chief Engineer, who'd been hovering anxiously with the Pumping House Supervisor, tutted angrily. "It is one of those damned servets—they like warmth and enclosed spaces." He held his hands out. "The wretched animal has damaged the machinery. Give it here and I will have it destroyed immediately."

"No!" Rodney had been cradling the cat-thing and stroking it. He clutched it to his chest protectively and leaned back. "It's not _her_ fault. She was just making a bed!"

"A bed that could have killed us all!" the Supervisor said angrily.

"Well, if you'd done regular maintenance checks this would never have happened!" Rodney retorted.

"We have not been able to operate the sacred machinery properly for many years," the Engineer said, touching one of the consoles reverently. "The last Engineer able to awaken the controls went to his rest then, and we have no others with the Touch." He turned to John, his face pleading. "If you would only remain here with us, Touched One, we would shower you with all the luxury you could desire."

Behind him, Rodney rolled his eyes. Oh boy, there'd be months of teasing about John being "touched". He was never gonna live _that_ down.

"Sorry, but no," he told the Engineer, seeing Rodney out of the corner of his eye surreptitiously stuffing the now purring servet down the front of his shirt. "But hey, you got a great city here so we'll be sure to visit again. And we'll leave you an address where you can contact us, if you need me to turn anything on."

Rodney snorted derisively and shone a flashlight into the console. "Aha!" He reached in and fiddled with something and John straightened, sensing a change in the hum of the machines. Now that it was running again, he realized there'd been a faint wrongness on the edge of his consciousness, the same thing he felt when handling faulty ancient tech in the lab.

Back at the consoles, Rodney's dancing fingers called up several holo-screens, making the Engineer gasp and the Supervisor clasp his hands and mutter a prayer. John watched Rodney run through the diagnostics then dismiss the screens with a tap. "All that, and it was just a loose crystal," he said, folding his arms in an attempt to conceal the purring bulge in his shirt. "It's fine now, and the consoles will stay activated, since the Colonel's initialized them." He gave the Engineer a doubtful look. "You do know how to do basic maintenance and run diagnostics, I assume?"

The Engineer nodded. "It is all laid out in the sacred scrolls, Wise One. I was trained in my youth, but we have not been able to awaken the ancestral machines for so long. We will follow the teachings of the scrolls, never fear. They served our people well for many generations."

"Well, okay then," Rodney said, obviously dubious about the scrolls and the religious claptrap. "Come on, John, I think our work here is done. Let's get out before I'm permanently deafened."

Outside, walking back to the inn with Teyla and Ronon, John leaned into Rodney. "Whatcha got under your shirt, buddy?"

"Look, I couldn't leave her there!" Rodney hissed fiercely. "You heard him. He was going to kill her, poor thing!" He stroked his bulging front, which vibrated happily.

"Well, okay, but you can't bring her back to Atlantis."

"I don't see why not," Rodney said, his jaw jutting stubbornly. "They wouldn't let me have my cat from Earth because this is an alien ecosystem, but she's a Pegasus animal, and the worlds here are so interconnected by the Gates that it's not like each one has a pristine ecology. Plus we live in a _city_. It doesn't _have_ an ecosystem to disrupt."

"Yeah, but..." John started, then trailed off. What was he really objecting to? That he probably wasn't getting any tonight, with Rodney fussing over his new pet? That if Rodney had a cat, soon everyone would want a pet? It might actually be good for morale, and if they'd been on Earth, most people _would_ have had pets. "Anyway, how'd you know it's a she?"

Rodney looked shifty. "She was nesting," he said finally. "I've had cats that did that when—"

"Oh jeez, the damn thing's pregnant?" John scrubbed a hand through his hair. Woolsey would have fifty fits.

Rodney was cooing to the servet, cradling it in his hands through the shirt. "I'll make you a nice bed in my wardrobe, won't I? You'll be no trouble at all, no you won't!"

"Huh," Ronon said, coming up behind them and peering over Rodney's shoulder. "A servet-cat. Had one as a kid."

"She will need a box of dirt," Teyla said from beside John. "We can get one from the botanists." Not just Rodney's cat then, but the team mascot as well. Well, he was part of them now; they were family. And he and Rodney were... something. It was early days yet, but they'd figure it out.

"That thing better not be a tribble," he said, giving in to the inevitable and starting to think up arguments to appease Woolsey.

* * *

the end


End file.
